


simple

by Illusively (Hermia)



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 03:17:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hermia/pseuds/Illusively
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You make it sound like it's the easiest thing in the world.” </p>
<p>Her chuckle wasn't bitter. It wasn't wet or particularly dry. It was just a chuckle. </p>
<p>“No,” he replied, three thick fingers curling around her five. “It is not easy, but it is simple.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	simple

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the amazing, fantastic, and brilliant Hyperbali for her birthday! She said she wanted vaguely shippy Caelie/Javik, so that's what she got! Seriously, her Cae is my favorite Other-Peoples'-Shepard. Hands down. Thank you for being an amaaazing friend, and I hope you have the best day EVER (despite it being election day)!

“No visitors,” Miranda told them. 

Time after time, “No visitors.”

Everyone listened; these were clearly wishes from the woman herself and not the order of her doctors. Miranda looked tired down to her bones, exhausted, twisted and wrung out over the past few weeks. When she spoke, even just in passing conversation, her brows knitted inward, like she'd forgotten how to form a casual sentence. She tried. She tried to give Garrus a pat on his arm, to comfort him, but all she could manage was fingers clutched onto armor. 

They knew something was wrong, but they listened.

At first.

Only two hours past midnight the second day back on Earth, Javik stopped listening. Caelie was respectful of everyone's need for privacy, but there were times when being invasive led only to better things. Sequestering the hero of the galaxy away, even due to her own desire to wait, was good for no one.

The hospital was busy. It was dilapidated due to the war with many of the windows letting in open air, the glass long swept away. Even so late into the night, the noise was immense, seeping in from the city and from each of the rooms. Beeping machines, the roll and squeak of wheels, the quiet conversation of many – it all filled up his head, nothing but white noise that stilled the moment he stepped into her room and sealed the door behind him.

Her window was still intact. It was quiet here; only the faint echo of the happenings in the hallway made its way through the walls. And Caelie was awake, sitting up in her bed, a pale orange light illuminating her from a panel above her head.

She glanced up from her lap when she heard him enter. The corner of her mouth hitched up, but her features were still drawn, tired in the same way as Miranda's.

“Figures you would be the one who didn't listen.”

Instead of answering her immediately, Javik crossed the room, around the foot of the hospital bed, to stand to her left. One hand sought out the other, linked behind his back, and he watched as she twisted her head to look up at him again, expecting a reply.

“They are too polite,” he murmured, and yet another small smile tugged at her lips. “Respecting one's wishes isn't always the wisest route to take.”

“I should have said I was _hoping_ you would be the one who didn't listen,” Caelie amended, fingers splaying over the blanket covering her thighs. Each movement was a departure from the woman he'd served under only weeks prior. She was much slower. Bandages covered the skin that stitches didn't. Miranda explained the procedure to Garrus only that afternoon. A complete removal of the implants left over from Project Lazarus was necessary. They were rendered inert from the blast and would eventually cause more damage than good. “The last thing I need right now is an old friend.”

Javik's lips twitched, and Caelie chuckled. “Figuratively. Someone who's always been around. You... You can be objective. So can Miranda. It's different with the rest.”

He nodded. “Is this about the geth? About your AI?”

“God, it's about everything,” she replied, the words rushing out before she could consider them. There was no reason to censor herself. Even if there was, she couldn't have exerted the effort to keep quiet. She was full to the seams with things she needed to say, thoughts she needed to rid herself of before she could breathe again. Talking to Miranda hadn't helped. Miranda said what she needed to say; Javik would say what he wanted to. “About the geth. About EDI. I might've – I could have done something else. I could've controlled them. I had other options.”

“You didn't.” 

_You didn't._ Caelie's breath hitched as she sank farther into her pillows, relaxed instead of deflated, the truth pressing her down and alleviating the pressure in her chest almost instantly. “I did. In a way. I could have done something else, kept the geth and EDI alive, but—”

“But it was not the right choice,” Javik interrupted a second time, his voice filling her up. “You did what many, many cycles have not.”

“I let an entire sentient race die.”

“So that many more could live.” Javik shook his head. “If we had completed this 'Crucible' in my cycle, we would have come to the same conclusion. You have freed the universe from the promise of eventual destruction, Shepard. And there was no other option.”

There was something freeing in the concise, something about how thoroughly Javik believed in her choice that made swallowing each breath easier. Everything still ached. Beyond muscle, beyond bone, she still felt dry. But she nodded. Her fingers cut a path through her misshapen, ginger curls, and she nodded. “I don't really know how long it'll take me to believe that, but... thanks.”

“This is not a matter of belief.” Javik took a step forward, then another. His hands fell to his sides only for a moment before one of them reached out to rest on top of Caelie's. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and searching for only a moment. Then, again, she took a breath, long and slow, and turned her hand over until her palm brushed his warm, callused skin. “This is a matter of right and wrong, of making the simple decision or the one you will carry with you. Your only choice is whether or not you will carry this victory with pride or upon heavy shoulders.”

“You make it sound like it's the easiest thing in the world.” 

Her chuckle wasn't bitter. It wasn't wet or particularly dry. It was just a chuckle. 

“No,” he replied, three thick fingers curling around her five. “It is not easy, but it is simple.”


End file.
